


Fucking Novak

by Casloveshisfreckles



Series: SPN Kink Bingo 2018 [2]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Bottom!Cas, College AU, Desperation, Destiel - Freeform, M/M, POV Dean, Professor!Dean, Sex Toys, Sexting, Student!Cas, Teasing, spnkinkbingo, top!dean
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-19
Updated: 2018-06-19
Packaged: 2019-05-25 02:27:20
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,524
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14967140
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Casloveshisfreckles/pseuds/Casloveshisfreckles
Summary: To Dean, Monday mornings have always been the same: classes start too early and students want to be there even less than he does.Until Castiel Fucking Novak joins his history class and now, Dean doesn't knowwhatto expect.Square Filled: Desperation





	Fucking Novak

**Author's Note:**

  * Translation into 中文 available: [【授权翻译】Fucking Novak](https://archiveofourown.org/works/16406873) by [ayarainheart](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ayarainheart/pseuds/ayarainheart)



> This was a fun one. I hope you like it!
> 
> And thank [you](https://archiveofourown.org/users/fanforfanatic/), as always.

 

“All right you savages, settle down.” Dean waves his hands in a sitting motion. “I know Monday’s mean shit to college students and I appreciate your attendance but I’m gonna need all of you to shut the fuck up.” He looks up at his students. “Please.”

Fucking Mondays. Dean hates them. College kids and Mondays were never meant to mix, and he’s pissed he has to teach a course to these fucking psychos, and on a Monday _morning_ no less. It’s like the time slot from hell. He’s gonna have to sweet talk his boss before the semester ends to make sure he doesn't pull the short straw again. Because, fuck this shit.

He’d much rather still be naked and in bed with—

The door at the top of the room slams open and pulls Dean from his thoughts. His eyes narrow at the latecomer descending the stairs of his classroom like he owns the fucking place.

Castiel fucking Novak.

He’s sauntering to the open seat in front of Dean’s desk—fucking sauntering, this guy—and he looks Dean up and down as he passes, a slow smirk growing on his face.

“Hello, Dean,” he murmurs before he sits and Dean regrets _ever_ telling his classes to call him by his first name. The first time Castiel fucking Novak greeted him that way, all the blood Dean needed in his brain was suddenly in his dick. He had to hide behind his desk and show a documentary on conspiracies because there was no way he’d be able to stand in front of his class and teach. Thank fuck this history class was a pre-req, anyway. None of these kids were taking it seriously.

He spent the next hour and a half trying to ignore his hard on and Novak’s eyes that were on him every time he dared to look. By the end of the period, it had become a game to see who would look away first. Dean always lost.

And now every Monday, it was something else.

Dean returns the greeting with a tight nod before leaning down to queue up the presentation for today's lecture.

He manages thirteen slides with minimal interruption from Novak. All he’s doing is staring at Dean and biting his lower lip a _lot_ but all Dean has to do is quit looking at him and he’ll be fine.

Just—stop looking.

Just stop watching Novak’s teeth dragging across his pink bottom lip.

Dean clears his throat and moves on to the next slide.

His traitorous eyes drift back to his student who is now chewing on a pen and is looking at Dean through his long fucking lashes and god damn him. The corner of Novak’s mouth tips up and he raises an eyebrow when he notices Dean’s attention and drops his pen, which rolls right down to Dean’s feet. He squats mid sentence to pick it up off the ground and he makes the terrible mistake of looking up. His eyes are lined up to see right under Novak’s desk. Novak’s legs are wide open and the loose basketball shorts he’s wearing reveal the fact that Castiel chose to forego underwear this morning.

Dean freezes, his eyes glued to the man in front of him. The man who then rocks his hips, making his beautiful dick twitch against the crease of his thick, muscled thigh.

Someone clears their throat and Dean flinches as Novak slowly closes his legs. Dean tries to stand quick to recover any sort of dignity he might have left but that goes completely out the window when he smashes his head on the desk as he gets up.

The class titters and Dean is glad the lights are low because he’s sure his face is red. He clears his throat. “Okay, yes that was hilarious. Never mind my mild concussion, thanks.”

Dean's going to kill him.

He queues up the last part of the documentary they’ve been watching and takes a seat at his desk, intent on trying to get his fucking dick to go down. Dean tells himself not to do it—do not fucking do it, Winchester—but of course, he has no self control and he lets his eyes flick over to where Novak sits, a shit-eating grin on his stupid, perfect face. His hand tightens around the pen he’s still holding when Novak’s eyes meet his and he looks down with a wicked grin.

Dean’s eyes follow Novak’s gaze without his consent and from where he’s sitting, he can see everything happening under Novak’s desk. His legs are thrown open again, and he’s sporting a sizeable erection, his shorts, again, leaving nothing to the imagination. Dean curses silently as he watches Novak slide his hand down and pull up the hem of his shirt, revealing taut abs. He’s sweeping his fingers over his stomach in a slow drag and Dean wishes it was his tongue tasting that sweet skin instead.

He can’t tear his eyes away as Novak lets his hand drift further down until he’s dragging his fingers over his own length. It’s driving Dean insane and he audibly gasps when Castiel stops playing and grips his dick in a tight fist.

His lack of self control catches the attention of some of his students so he coughs in a sorry attempt to cover for himself and Dean’s so fucking grateful when the movie and the class end. He gets himself together enough to call out that weeks homework as his class gathers their stuff, most of them making a quick exit.

“Mr. Novak, see me after class, please?” Dean tries to make his voice sound bored as he pretends to click around on his laptop. He notices Novak high five another student—Gabriel something—who’s looking at him with a smirk. Dean loses his hard on after that, fucking pissed that Castiel might have said something stupid about him. About them.

His classroom clears out, the door clicking shut behind the last student. Dean comes around to stand in front of his desk, leaning against it as Novak takes his time packing his bag—not like he fucking took notes or anything.

Dean clears his throat and crosses his arms in front of him. All pretenses dropped, Castiel slides up to him, his cock still tenting his shorts.

“You wanted to see me, Professor?” He breathes hot against Dean’s ear and that’s fucking _enough._

Dean spins them both and pins Castiel under him, loving the way his firm body stretches across his desk. “You’re not telling people about us, right?” He grinds his hips down and Castiel whimpers under him. Cocky little shit.

“Fuck no,” Castiel pants, shoving his hips up into Dean. “I can wait a few more months.”

Two months and this fucking class will be over and they won’t have to hide their relationship anymore.

Dean lifts Castiel’s shirt to get his mouth on the miles of skin Castiel was flashing at him during class. His licks and bites at the hard lines of Cas’ stomach and Castiel writhes below him.

“What were you thinking, coming to class like this,” Dean asks between drags of his tongue.

“I was thinking you wouldn’t be able to resist me and I was hoping I’d be exactly where I am right now,” Castiel answers. “Plus, I couldn’t find my underwear this morning when I left your place.” He grips Dean’s shoulders, his hands sliding down to his chest when Dean sits up, thinking. He tries to recall what they were doing when he yanked off Castiel’s boxers last night and he mimes his actions when he remembers throwing them over his right shoulder.

Castiel laughs with delight as he watches Dean try to solve the mystery.

“Based on how bad I wanted to get at you last night, I’d say they’re probably on top of the dresser.”

Castiel had showed up on his doorstep around midnight, with his ripped pants, open combat boots, tight black shirt, and smudged eyeliner and Dean can’t remember much after that. It was all flying limbs and wet mouths for the rest of the night. Dean left him in bed to make it to an early faculty meeting and it’s obvious now that Castiel never went home, considering it’s Dean’s basketball shorts he’s wearing.

Sharp hipbones buck into Dean and he focuses again on the gorgeous man under him. Castiel surges up to take Dean’s lips, and he moans, filthy into his mouth.

Dean’s phone vibrating between them is like a tidal wave of ice water breaking them apart. Castiel makes a grab for it but Dean beats him, silencing the alarm reminding him of the next meeting he has to go to this morning, this one for the mid-term student mixer he’s overseeing.

“Don’t go,” Castiel murmurs into his ear. “Take me into your office and fuck me instead.”

Dean groans and presses his forehead to Castiel’s stomach. He nuzzles his nose into the warm skin and separates them with a sigh.

“I can’t, fuck, I want to, but Charlie will be here looking for me in about two minutes.”

Castiel groans and lets his head hit the back of Dean’s desk before he’s pushing himself off and trying to straighten his clothes. Dean looks on, longingly. He’d much rather be looking at those clothes on his office floor but duty fucking calls, as usual.

He pulls Castiel closer for one last kiss. “Friday, Cas.” He grabs a handful of firm ass and Castiel smirks. “We’re on for seven?”

They have a standing date night, every Friday. When they first started dating, they set their schedules up this way. Not very romantic but necessary, considering Dean’s workload and Castiel’s schedule as he finishes his doctorate. Dean likes to tease him about taking his gen classes last but Castiel always teases back, saying he was waiting for a hot teacher to take over the history class before he signed up.

Their Friday nights bleed into long weekends and neither of them mind. However after this morning class, they won’t see each other much all week until Friday night. Dean looks forward to Friday nights almost as much as he hates Monday mornings and having to watch Castiel leave him.

“Seven it is, Professor,” Cas teases with a soft kiss. “I’ll be seeing you.”

Dean stares at Novak’s ass as he bounces out of the room, throwing one last wink at Dean as he goes. God, he’s gonna be the death of him.

Tuesday starts with a text from Castiel. Dean's a half hour into his class and a text lights up his screen.

A picture of Dean's own grey sheets, rumpled at the foot of his bed; long, muscular legs sprawled out on top.

Fuck.

The pictures get worse. Worse for the situation in Dean’s pants, anyway. The photos climb higher and higher, over thick thighs Dean loves to mark and up to—fuck, Novak, wearing the tightest red lace panties Dean’s ever seen. The next picture is Castiel’s long fingers pulling the head of his dick out, his thumb pressed into his shiny slit.

Then another picture of Castiel’s washboard abs, his body curling just right to show off the muscle. He’s so fucking hot, it’s maddening. The next picture is fingers tugging on the barbell in Castiel’s nipple. Dean imagines the cold metal against his tongue.

Finally a picture of Castiel’s face and it’s the worst one yet, the one that makes Dean’s stomach flip in a way he’s not ready to think about. Cas is grinning, his bottom lip between his teeth because he fucking knows he looks good. He’s wearing his glasses, black and square framed and so fucking sexy, Dean can’t think straight. His hair is wild, like he’s been pulling his hands through it and Dean knows why Novak’s in his house.

It was about two months ago when Castiel complained about his roommate and his roommate’s new—and very vocal—girlfriend. He found it hard to concentrate on his dissertation and Dean took pity, offering up his space anytime Castiel needed a quiet place to work.

Plus he’s fucking adorable when he studies, all scrunched noses and furrowed brows as he runs his hands through his hair absentmindedly.

Dean bets Castiel got bored and wondered into Dean’s room and decided to fuck up Dean’s morning.

The photos head back south and so does all of Dean’s blood. Castiel reveals himself as he jacks off, his dick wet and sliding through his fist. The next picture is of Dean’s bottle of lube from his nightstand and his new favorite toy, a bright purple double ended dildo, laying side by side in Dean’s sheets. His mind drifts to the weekend before last when they went out and bought it, only to take it back to Dean’s and break it in. A few times.

He considers cutting his class short to see how fast he can get home. He palms his dick under his desk instead and tries to be a professional.

Two videos hit his Inbox and Dean has to lock his phone in his desk. He can think of nothing else until he can dismiss his class, nudging past a few students to get to his office faster. He locks the door and rips open his belt and pants before he sits on his small couch and hits play.

The first video is pointed at Novak’s face. His moans pour from the small speakers on Dean’s phone and he stares into the camera. Dean strokes himself with a loose fist as he stares into blue eyes looking into the camera. Dean can hear the wet slide of skin on skin and it’s the most erotic thing he’s ever seen. The video ends way too soon for Dean’s liking.

The second is again on Castiel’s face but he has that far off look he gets when he’s freshly fucked and god damn, Dean loves to put that look on his face.

Castiel licks his lips, swollen from the abuse he gave them while he was getting off. “Hello, Dean.”

Fucker.

“I was stuck on a new idea and thought I’d try and clear my,” he chuckles and looks down. “Head. Thought you’d enjoy the show.” His smirk is teasing. “As a thank you, be good for me and don’t touch yourself this week. I’ll make sure you get what you need on Friday.” Castiel’s eyes darken. “I’ll be seeing you, Professor.”

The video ends. A picture comes in, this one downright filthy. It’s Castiel’s splayed legs, their toy buried deep in his ass and come painting his stomach. Dean stares at it for a long time but halts his strokes and curses Novak while his erection takes its time going away.

When Dean gets home that night, his bed is made with freshly washed sheets and he finds the red panties under his pillow.

Fucking Novak.

On Wednesday, Dean wakes with the hardest morning wood he’s ever had. It takes his cold shower a long time to get the blood down. He thinks a few strokes will take the edge off but Dean gets distracted by his own hand and the image of Castiel on his knees and he’s almost too late to stop himself but he manages by flipping the shower back to cold, dousing his desire.

His phone is silent, no messages from Castiel all morning. Dean’s almost nervous at what he might be cooking up.

The random fucking boners Dean pops all morning aren’t helping either.

He’s almost done for the day and checking his mailbox when a familiar laugh shocks his system. He looks up to see Novak—the back of him, anyway—standing in the doorway to Dean’s boss’ office, and also Novak’s advisor, considering the doctorate he’s working on is in history.

Dean stares at the way Novak’s black slacks stretch across his ass. He’s wearing a tight, midnight blue waistcoat with a white button-up underneath. The sleeves are rolled halfway up and Castiel’s hair is wild and he looks so good Dean’s mouth waters.

He tries to hurry past him without being seen but Castiel turns and catches his eye before Dean’s shutting the door to his office.

Dean’s leaning over his desk to try to get his thoughts straight when his door opens and closes. Dean hears the lock slide into place and he turns and shoves Castiel against the door, pulling on the tie that matches the waistcoat and fuck, Dean wants him. He bites into the curve of Castiel’s neck and Castiel groans deep before Dean slaps a hand over his mouth. Blue eyes dance as Novak nips at Dean’s hand.

“I’m gonna kick you out of here if you can’t keep it down,” Dean grouches before finishing the hickey he started under Castiel’s collar. Castiel huffs out a laugh and pushes a knee between Dean’s legs. He ruts shamelessly against it because fuck this guy for making him so fucking insane.

Castiel cups Dean’s ass as he rolls his hips and Dean pants hot into Castiel’s neck. He wants to come, he’s going to come, and it’s like Novak fucking _knows_ because he stills both their hips with one final grind.

“No,” Dean whines and Castiel silences him with a dirty kiss.

“I’ll be seeing you, Dean,” he says with one last parting slide of his lips.

Dean thinks it can’t get any worse until Thursday, when Novak shows up in the middle of his office hours. He checks his calendar to see the next thirty minutes blocked out for the man in front of him, rocking on the balls of his feet, a pleased grin on his face. Novak locks the door behind him and drops his bag before he’s pulling open his pants and taking out his dick.

Dean’s helpless to do anything because of Castiel’s request and Dean’s annoying need to be praised by him.

“You can look, Dean, but no touching.”

Like he needs to be reminded in those gravel tones.

Novak spits in his hand and Dean thinks he’s going to come in his pants and/or possibly die and he’s kinda okay with it.

Thirty minutes.

Thirty agonizing minutes Dean watches Castiel stroke his cock with one hand and do all kinds of delicious things with his other. Castiel’s long fingers look sexy as fuck when they roll his balls between them and when they slip inside his hole. He’s spread out in the same spot Dean sat in watching his videos and that makes it even hotter.

Castiel comes at the thirty minute mark, his mouth falling open in a silent groan. Dean has no fucking idea how he stayed so quiet. Their time is over, signaled by a knock on Dean’s door. There’s no way Dean can stand up, so he watches Castiel make quick work of his cleanup, stopping to tell Dean goodbye by shoving two come covered fingers in his mouth before he kisses Dean around them. He leaves Dean with a massive hard on but what the fuck else is new at this point?

Dean wonders if someone can die from not being able to come. Maybe if he’s the first, they’ll name the phenomenon after him. That would be awesome.

He spends the rest of his office hours with the taste of Castiel in his mouth.

Friday. Dean hates every single minute from the moment his alarm wakes him from a dream where Castiel is slapping his ass while wearing a zorro mask, to the end of his work day when he still hasn’t heard from Novak.

A cold shower when Dean gets home does nothing to help and he all but rips his door open when Castiel knocks on it at seven sharp. The sight of his student stops Dean short. He’s wearing tight grey pants with a cobalt blue henley under a brown leather jacket and he looks so fucking good with his hair tousled and his cocky grin and Dean has no fucks left to give when he grabs Castiel by the lapels of that fucking jacket and yanks him inside his apartment.

Fuck dinner.

Dean is on Castiel in an instant, sealing their mouths together in a hot kiss. A low growl starting in Dean’s throat clashes with the happy laugh coming from Cas.

“Good evening, professor,” he teases and Dean sucks on the line of his throat. “I thought we were having dinner.”

“No,” Dean growls out. No, he needs his mouth on Cas _right now._ He pushes the leather jacket off Cas’ shoulders and pulls at his belt, Cas’ hips jerking forward. “No, I’ll feed you after I make you come.”

Dean hefts Cas into his arms without another word, strong thighs wrapping around his middle and long fingers threading through his hair. He wraps his arms around Cas and kisses him, their tongues rolling against each other as Dean walks them to his bedroom.

Cas rips his own shirt off as they go down the hall. “God, Dean, all week I’ve wanted you,” Cas pants into his ear.

“All week—all week you’ve been making me fucking crazy, Cas,” Dean grits out before he presses Cas against the wall next to his bed. Cas arches his back and Dean takes a nipple into his mouth, sucking at the dark nub, the metal jewelry clicking against his teeth. He bites down and Cas cries out.

“You’re so hot, so fucking good at teasing me, making me desperate for you.” Dean grinds their hips together with another pull on Cas’ nipple. “I need to taste you, god, I need to fuck you, Cas, please.” Dean needs Cas, needs him to know how good Dean’s been, waiting for this moment. Waiting for him.

“Tell me then, professor. Did you follow my instructions this week?” Cas’ voice drips like honey straight down to Dean’s cock.

“I’ve been hard for three fucking days, thinking about you.” Dean pushes them together again. “Wanted to touch myself so many times, but you said—you promised,” Dean stumbles over his words as they get harder and harder to articulate. He sucks a breath between his teeth and spins them again, this time to lay Cas out on his bed.

Cas scrambles up and watches as Dean takes off his clothes. He pulls his beautiful cock out and strokes it once before he locks eyes with Dean to make sure he’s watching. As if there was anything else in the entire state Dean would rather be looking at right now. Cas kicks off his boots, and they hit the floor with a thud, snapping Dean into action. He grasps Cas’ ankles one by one to pull off his pants; Cas’ thick thighs just begging to be marked. He lifts Cas’ foot to his mouth and bites gently at his arch, causing Cas to whine and twist in the sheets below him.

He guides Cas’ leg to the bed, pushing his thighs open to slide between them. Cas pulls him down once he can reach and he wraps his legs around Dean’s waist to pull him even closer. He rolls his hips and his cock slides against Dean’s and Dean curses the fabric still separating them.

Cas arches up and pulls Dean’s earlobe into his mouth, sucking lightly before letting go. “I promised I’d take care of you, didn’t I?”

“Yeah, yeah, you did,” Dean breathes out. “Please, Cas, please,” he begs. Dean wants Cas so bad, so fucking bad. He feels crazy with want for the man in his bed.  

“I’m wearing too many clothes still, Dean,” Cas purrs and Dean can take care of that, that’s an easy one. He hooks his fingers in the waistband of Cas’ white boxers and pulls them down, revealing Cas’ thick cock, hard and leaking against his stomach. Cas gives him a wicked grin and wraps one hand around his wet cock and uses the other to cup his balls, spreading his legs open to show Dean the plug he has inside of him. The black base is nestled between his cheeks; it's so fucking hot and Dean can't stop staring. He thumbs at it, pressing down until Cas cries out and bucks his hips.

Fuck, the way Cas' body rolls and the way his muscles twitch under his golden skin makes Dean's dick throb.

Dean leans down to murmur into Cas’ jaw, “this is your idea of taking care of me?” 

“I knew how much fun you’d have,” Cas grits out with another roll of his hips. Dean sits up to grab the lube from the nightstand, clicking the cap open and pushing Cas’ legs wider, impossibly wide if he’s gonna be such a brat. He drips lube on Cas’ stretched rim and it glistens when he rubs his thumbs against it.

“And I thought you could use some fun, Professor,” Cas teases with a grunt when Dean twists the plug inside his ass. He works into his own rhythm, ducking down to take Cas’ leaking cock in his mouth, sucking on the swollen head. Cas’ hips jerk and he curls his body around Dean’s head, hands clenching in his hair.

Dean drags the plug in and out, slow, twisting it in and pressing, pressing until Cas makes that sound in his throat Dean loves so much. Cas shakes under him.

He wants to lay here and suck Cas all night but his dick is not subtle in reminding him how badly he wants to come. He grips himself at the base and pulls off Cas’ cock, loving the sound it makes when it slaps against Cas’ stomach. Dean drags his teeth down Cas’ shaft and Cas groans out his name.

“I want you, Dean,” Cas pants out. “Want that big cock, wanted it all week. Wanted it when I came to class and teased you.” He’s babbling now. “Wanted you to bend me over your desk and make me come after you left me in bed with a hard on.”

Dean smirks. He did do that.

He rocks to his knees and pulls the plug from Cas’ ass nice and slow, letting him enjoy the drag like Dean knows he loves. Cas is the mouthiest bottom and Dean fuckin’ loves it. He tosses the plug on the bed as he slips two fingers inside Cas before his hole flutters shut. He slicks up his own cock and presses his head to Cas’ entrance, pushing past the ring of muscle and making Cas cry out his name.

Dean loves the sound of his name in Cas' mouth.

“Yeah, Cas—fuck—finally.” Dean wraps his arms around Cas’ thighs as he fucks into him, slow at first so Dean can enjoy the way Cas feels constricting around his cock. Cas huffs with every punch of Dean’s hips, a little breathy sigh that shoots straight to Dean’s belly with every single thrust. “Wanted you since I saw your fucking beautiful dick in the middle of class.”

Cas clenches his hands in the sheets and laughs, laughs as Dean pounds into him, the vibration of his joy like a wave dragging Dean down. Dean strokes Cas with a firm grip and his laughter turns into moans.

“Dean—oh, fuck, De—an,” Cas is losing his coherency and Dean pulls out of him, flipping Cas’ legs over and Cas scrambles to his knees and pants into the sheets. “Yes, fuck yes, come on,” he goads Dean on.

He slides back into Cas in one smooth roll, snapping his hips and Cas groans into the sheets, pushing back for more. Dean holds him tight and fucks Cas fast and dirty, reaching down to pull Cas up by his hair. He remembers all the teasing Cas did this week and his hips move faster, punching out noise after dirty noise from Cas.

“Noisy fucking bottom,” he tells Cas, punctuating each word with a snap of his hips. “Maybe I should come in your mouth to shut you up.” Cas whines out his approval. “Or maybe I just fill you up instead.”

Dean lets go of Cas’ hair and slides his hands over Cas’ shoulders to lift him up. He runs one hand down Cas’ long, firm body and takes his cock in hand, matching his strokes. Cas reaches up and buries his hands in Dean’s hair, his gorgeous body stretched all the way against Dean and Cas comes when Dean sinks his teeth into his fleshy part of his shoulders.

Dean follows, Cas’ hole getting tighter as Dean spills into him, both of them groaning out the other’s name. This is always the best part, when Dean feels like he’s floating.

He guides them down into the sheets and nuzzles into the back of Cas’ neck, nipping at the skin there and making Cas whine into the pillows. Dean strokes his hand down and into the mess on Cas’ stomach, Cas’ come still warm. Cas’ stomach muscles twitch and Dean drags his fingers through the fluids. He reaches his hand up and slips his fingers past Cas’ open lips and Cas moans as he sucks Dean’s fingers into his mouth.

Fuck, Cas is the sexiest god damn thing Dean’s ever experienced.

Cas sighs when Dean’s softening cock slips out of him and Dean reaches around him, fingers searching until they find the black plug. He pushes Cas’ hip down, guiding his thigh open and pressing the plug back against Cas’ entrance. It’s pink and shiny and fuck, Dean wants Cas ready to take his cock again later.

Cas relaxes and clings to Dean’s arm pressed across his chest as Dean works the plug back in, using his own come to slick the way. Cas is making low, guttural moans in the back of his throat and Dean whispers encouragement into his ear.

“That’s right baby, relax for me. Let me get this plug back inside you, make sure you’re ready for my cock again,” he’s close enough that his lips brush against Cas’ ear and his breathing is heavy and hot. “You’re so good, take care of me so well.” He presses a kiss to Cas’ ear, and a tear slips from Cas’ eye. Dean snakes his tongue out and licks the salty drop away. “You’re so, _so,_ good for me, Cas.”

The plug settles against Cas’ rim and Dean rubs his thumb against it. Cas sighs in contentment. Dean soothes his bite mark with a few soft kisses before he leaves the bed to retrieve a washcloth for Cas, wiping him down front and back, holding the plug in place while he wipes the base clean of lube. Cas’ hips jerk a little before he settles.

“I’ll be right back, gonna order some food,” he reassures Cas before pulling a blanket over his lower half. Cas nods, slow and sleepy.

Dean pauses before he leaves the room and looks back. Cas is beautiful splayed across Dean’s bed, the blanket molded around his round ass and thick thighs, his gorgeous back and strong arms hugging one of Dean’s pillows, his mop of sex hair wild against the sheets.

Fucking Novak.

When the girl taking his order at the Thai place mistakes him for Cas, Dean can’t help but laugh. Dean’s an academic, damn it. Dean can see equations and solutions and all that other bullshit when it’s smacking him right in the face.

He shakes his head at himself and opens two beers, slipping back into bed beside Cas. Dean takes a pull from his beer as Cas stretches, his toes pointing in the air from outside the blanket. He drags himself into sitting position and presses against Dean. Dean passes him the beer and holds his own out and Cas clinks them together with a laugh.

Dean turns towards him and watches the way his lips wrap around the head of the bottle and he presses a finger into the dimple that appears when Cas smirks around it.

“Move in with me.”

Cas swallows and lowers the bottle slowly, turning to face Dean.

“Are you serious?” He’s sincere with his question, maybe the most solemn Dean’s ever seen him. Gone is the mischievous graduate student, smarter than Dean could ever dream to be and a man Dean’s grown to love. In his place, someone who is suddenly taking things very seriously.

And fuck yes, Dean’s serious. “Yeah, Cas, deadly. I don’t like it when you go home, the house feels empty, dark.” Dean cuffs him on the cheek. “You brighten everything up for me, man.”

The beer bottle is cold when it presses against Dean’s back because Cas is kissing him and gripping him tight and Dean thinks that might be a yes?

Dean tries to shrug his shoulders and Cas huffs into his mouth, breaking their kiss to pant, “yes, yes, hell yes I’ll move in with you.” And then Dean’s laughing because he’s so fucking happy and he gets to wake up with Cas every morning and Dean can’t think of anything better than that right now.

Fucking Novak.

**Author's Note:**

> Please let me know your thoughts! Thanks for reading! 
> 
> And come say hi on [Tumblr](https://www.tumblr.com/blog/casloveshisfreckles).


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